Something About Summers Women
by Tim Hickey
Summary: This takes place right after Buffy's fall in "The Gift." A Spike story


Disclaimer: I do not own Spike, or Buffy, or any of the Scoobies. If I did I would be on a small Carribean island, enjoying my money and my creative genius. But alas, all belong to the mighty Joss Whedon and his incredible imagination. This takes place as soon as the gang finds Buffy's body at the bottom of the tower. This was written before I'd seen any of the eps for Season 6.

  
  


Comment: I know, I know, another post-Gift fic rammed down your throat, but hopefully it's a good one, as always, please give me feedback.

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He lay there, the sounds of the approaching apocalypse all around him. He was never a fan of apocalypses, even back in the days of The Fang Gang. The whole end of the world thing was Angelus' fetish, not his, he enjoyed being a creature of the night on this miserable planet. He enjoyed being one of the creepy crawlies that kids where scared of and adults dismissed as fairy tale, being able to walk through the night untouched, feeding on whatever went his way. But Angelus, for one reason or another, was so obsessed with destroying the human race, making for some not so pleasant discussions between the two.

The ground to his right groaned and began to crack, sending chunks of pavement spilling into the sewer. He rolled to his left, ending up on his back, looking strait up at the tower he had just taken an unintentional swan dive from to see the giant energy field that was expanding rapidly. He focussed his sharp eyes on the top of the tower, where barely visible even to him due to the harsh light of the portal, he could see two bodies up there. They were huddled close, talking to each other. One was Dawn, he was positive of that. But how had she gotten free, the ritual called for her to bleed to death....

He focussed on the other figure and realized that it wasn't Doc at all, it was Buffy, holding her sister close to her. He was sure that Buffy was comforting her sister, the one he had sworn an oath to protect, before the world came to an end. He sent out a silent message to them both, about how much he cared for both of them, Dawn, her sweet innocence and her stubbornness that reminded him of her sister. Buffy, whom by some twist of fate he had grown to love with whatever he had deep down inside him. He lay there, waiting for the world to end as he watched the two women he loved more than anything he thought he was capable of.

That's when he saw Buffy break away from Dawn into a run, running towards the end of the platform.

'What the bloody hell is she..' he thought.

He knew, oh God how he knew. She was going to throw herself into the energy to save the world, again.

"No," he whispered to himself. "Buffy..."

He watched her leap into a perfect dive, her body seemed to float towards the portal. He watched as her body entered the energy field, and lost sight of her. He rolled to his stomach and with a groan he forced his beaten body up to one knee. He looked up, placing one hand over his brow to shield his eyes from the searing light and strained his eyes in an attempt to locate her amongst it. Suddenly, the portal expanded slightly and then snapped out of existence.

Spike watched Buffy's limp body fall.

"NOOOOOO!!!!" he bellowed, forcing himself up to his feet.

He swaggered slightly, like a drunk leaving the bar at close and dropped down hard to his knees. Grunting, he forced himself back to his feet and made his way to where her body had fallen.

Spike made his way around the corner, staggering back and forth, his limbs ached, his head felt as if he had a thousand hornets flying around in it. He wiped the blood that was spilling from a cut above his left eye with the sleeve of his black duster. The knife wound in his back was spilling blood everywhere, he could feel it running down his pants, causing his shirt to stick to him. Still he forced himself onward until he saw her body.

She lay perfectly still on a broken piece of concrete. He looked at her and was aware that his legs gave out because he was on the ground again, his eyesight never wavering, his wide eyed stare locked on her limp form. To his left, Willow began to sob, but it sounded like it was a thousand miles away.

'She's dead,' he thought. 'She's dead.'

He felt everything inside of him explode into a tidal wave of emotion, he could feel the sadness tear through his body like a heated knife.

He dropped his head into his bloody hands and began to sob uncontrollably. He cried for the woman who he so desperately had wanted to love him as much as he'd loved her. Everything else was so far away, even his natural instinct that all vampires have about the approaching dawn. He didn't care.

'Hell," he thought irrationally, just one of the hundreds of thoughts running through his head, 'couldn't be any worst than I feel now.'

He felt a small hand drop on his shoulder and he looked up, expecting to see Buffy there, smiling at him despite her pain. Smiling that smile that lit up the world, telling him that she was fine, nothing but scratches and bruises. All part of the job, she'd say.

Instead he looked up at Dawn, who was clutching her side. He could smell the blood on her, the sweet smell of young blood brought him back to reality like a slap.

"Get to the sewers Spike," Dawn said between tears, her hand shaking uncontrollably on his shoulder. "It's almost morning."

"Dawn," he sobbed, " your..your hurt."

"I'm okay," she said, her voice trembling, trying to sound brave.

"I don't think any of us are ever going to be okay again lil bit," Spike mumbled.

"Spike, go through the sewers and meet us at the shop," she said, attempting to keep control of her emotions. "We'll all meet there."

The blond vampire looked up at this young girl, trying to be as brave as possible, attempting to put rational thought above her own emotions, which were ready to boil over. He looked back at the body, the Scoobies pulled into a tight circle around it, the sounds of their sadness filling the early morning air. He looked back at Dawn.

"Go, please Spike go, " she pleaded. " I...I can't lose you too."

Spike nodded slowly, and raised himself up to his feet, attempting to downplay his injuries for Dawn. He walked over as quickly as his injured legs would let him to a nearby manhole. He bent down and with every ounce of strength he had left, lifted the top out of the ground and dropped down. He landed in knee deep water with a splash, the smell of shit filling his nostrils. He swayed and struggled to stay on his feet, but the pain in his legs and the deep wound in his back made it almost unbearable. He grunted and fought the urge to just lay down. He wiped the tears and blood away from his face with the sleeve of his duster and reached into the inside pocket, searching for his cigarettes. He felt his hand close over the small gold case he kept them in and pulled it out. He opened the case and removed one, shakily placing it in between his lips. He removed his Zippo lighter and flicked it. The flame lit up the tunnel, revealing the mold and excrement that covered the walls. He brought the lighter up to his smoke, the flame dancing as his hand would not stop shaking.

"Son of a..." he muttered.

He finally managed to get his cigarette lit, and the tears began again.

She was gone, she had not been able to defy the odds this time and paid with her life. At one point in his life, not that long ago in the life of an immortal, he would have been somewhere revealing in her death, basking in the glory of a fallen enemy. Now all he felt was empty.

He staggered through the dark sewer, his mind drifting back to a few short hours ago when he and Buffy had been at her house, gathering weapons.

"I know you never loved me. I know I'm a monster, but you treat me like a man...."

She had looked down at him from the stairs, her tired eyes locked on him, a slight smile that she attempted to hide, at that moment, he knew that she had excepted him, making him love her even more. They had been at each other's throats for years now, hated and bitter enemies, only working together when forced into it. He had been the one to change, he was the one who first discovered they were much better friends than enemies.

He had loved her, God how he had fallen for her. Stupid idea when he really thought about it, she couldn't, nor wouldn't, ever love him the way he loved her. But just before the end, he had come to terms with it, as painful as it had been.

Now she was gone forever.

He wept, alone in the cold darkness.

************   
  


Spike shoved up on the manhole, dislodging it from it's place and knocking it aside. He stood back as to not come into direct contact with the sunlight that spilled into the sewer. He looked up to see Willow above him, a blanket in her hand. She was still crying, her eyes puffy and red. He swallowed hard, trying to make it look like he himself had not been crying.

"Come in Spike," Willow said just above a hoarse whisper, "your hurt."

"I'm fine," Spike grunted from the darkness, "Just some scrapes and bruises."

All part of the job.

Willow put the blanket down over the hole and Spike made his way up. He climbed up into the blanket and felt her wrap it around his exposed skin. The two of them stood in the alleyway behind the Magic Box, and he allowed her to lead him into the building. He attempted to walk strait, but his energy was expended and he weaved slightly. He felt Willow's hands move up to his shoulder to keep him balance, like a sober friend leading the drunk one to the door. As soon as they entered the backroom, Spike collasped in an exhausted heap. The deep wound in his back continued to bleed, as did the one from his forehead, he honestly didn't think that he had that much blood in him, but he could smell it all over him, overpowering his senses. Suddenly he felt himself being raised off of the ground and he floated to the couch in the corner. He opened his eyes slightly to look at Willow, who looked like she had aged 15 years in the past three hours.

"Simple levitation spell," she said, attempting a smile but it came out a more like a lip twitch.

"How is she?" he croaked.

Willow looked at Spike with a pained look.

"Bu....Buffy's dead," Willow mumbled, the tears beginning again.

"I know that," he mumbled. "I'm a bleedin vampire, I know what a dead body l....looks like."

He turned his eyes up to her.

"I mean Dawn, is she alright?"

Willow nodded slightly.

"She was cut fairly badly, but Tara is bandaging her wounds with the first aid kit," she explained.

He closed his eyes again and rested his head down.

"I failed her," he whispered.

"You what..."

"I promised Buffy that I would protect Dawn," he began, his eyes still closed. "Or I would die trying. I'm still here and Buffy's dead. I bloody well fucking failed her."

He opened his eyes again to look at the red head Wiccan and watched her bite her bottom lip, as if this motion who stop the flood, trying not to let Spike see that she was as heartbroken as he was. He turned his eyes from her and looked at the ceiling.

"Spike it wasn't your.." Willow started.

"Leave me alone," Spike mumbled, never taking his eyes from the ceiling.

"Spike, your cut, your bleeding everywhere," she stated.

"SOD OFF!!!!" he bellowed, turning to her in full vamp face, the demon in his voice boomed through the room, causing Willow to take a surprise step back.

They held eyes for a minute until she turned and left the room. Spike's face shifted from demon to human as the beads that seperated the rooms brushed together and he remained perfectly still, attempting to aid the healing process his body was going through.

Emotions ran through him like a stake to the heart. Anger, hatred, and loss ran rampant on his insides, which hurt more than the physical wounds. The physical ones would heal, maybe leave a scar, but the emotional ones, those wounds were permanent. When Dru had left him a few years back, he never thought that anything would be more painful than losing her.

He was wrong.

He laid there for what seemed like hours, but were mere moments, thinking about her. How she had rejected him, God he had wanted to kill her then, if it weren't for the chip he probably would have tried to. The kissed they shared, he believing her to be the robot he had made that computer geek build him, but as soon as her lips touched his, he knew, he could smell her, he could taste her.

"What you did for me and Dawn, that was real. I won't forget it."

He had stared at her, his body sore and bruised from the time he had spent as Glory's prisoner, as she left and he knew she had finally excepted him. The words passed between them since then were no longer laced with venom, as they had been for years, but mutual respect.

His eyes opened and he blinked twice. His head felt a bit clearer, but his body was still ravaged with pain. He could feel the blood running down his face and onto his shirt. He stood unsteadily, making his way to the door. He needed bandages, the blood from the knife would was bleeding profusely now, the couch he had gotten off was covered in blood.

Spike reached the door and put an unsteady hand on the knob. He took an unnecissary breath, preparing himself for the rush of emotion that would confront him when the door was opened. He turned the knob and swung the door open.

What he saw shocked him, so much so he had to hold the door frame for support. He felt his knees buckle slightly and his eyes widened.

The body.

Her body. There, right in front of him, laid on the table where just hours before they had come up with a plan to save Dawn, there like some sort of sick joke. There was no blood, no bruises, no signs of the battle that had taken her life, just her, looking as if she were in a peaceful deep sleep.

Spike couldn't tear his eyes away from her. He felt frozen in time. If there had been any sort of doubt in him, something in the back of his mind that said "The Slayer always comes back, she's too tough to kill." it was silenced.

He finally tore his eyes from her to scan the room and the faces of her friends, the ones that had sacrificed everything but their lives for her. Each was lost in their own despair. Xander, helping to place Anya's arm into a sling, while never really taking his eyes off of the body for more than a moment. Anya too looked dirrectly at the body, almost oblivious to what Xander was doing for her.

To Spike's right stood Giles, who was on the phone.

'No doubt talking to those wankers at the Council," Spike thought absently. 'Slayer's dead, send another or something along those lines.'

He looked at the Watcher as he spoke on the phone and saw the beaten look on his face, his shoulders drooped, his glasses in his other hand. Spike didn't like him much, hated his flaming guts to be exact, but he felt for him. Giles had looked at Buffy as a daughter, and now she was gone.

Forever.

That word echoed through is head. Gone. Forever. Gone

Spike glanced over to Willow and Tara. The two lovers sat on the far couch, embracing each other. Willow's head sat on Tara's shoulder and Spike watched the tears run down her face. Her sobs were quiet.

His eyes searched the room for her, for Dawn. He looked up to see her sitting on the very top stair of the second level. The first thing he noticed were her eyes, huge and haunted. There was no more of that twinkle he had grown accustomed to, the light in her eyes that had always fascinated him.

Now there was only death.

She sat there, on the step, in the same purple gown that Glory had attempted to sacrifice her in, her eyes never leaving Buffy's body. Tears streamed down her face and the sound of her crying was the distinguishable sound in the whole shop.

He staggered toward the body, wanting to touch her, hold her, feel her cold skin against his, not caring what the rest of these people thought. Hell, if it weren't for the chip, he'd probably try and kill them all and take Dawn and the body with him.

'Probably be doing them a flippin favour,' he thought, 'they'd be with her then, somewhere, Heaven most likely.'

It struck him then. Even in death he would not be aloud to see her. To busy burning in hell he would.

He stood next to the table and looked down at the body. He licked his bottom lip and knelt down.

"I'm sorry," he whispered.

Spike took her hand in his and placed a soft kiss on it, feeling the coolness on his lips. He closed his eyes and removed his lips and stood up. He opened his eyes and looked at the body before turning to look up at Dawn.

"I'm sorry," he said to her, his voice echoing through the silent shop. He could feel their eyes on him, looking through him.

Dawn looked down at him, her haunted eyes fixated on him. The look in her eyes was similar to the one he'd seen so many times in Dru's, that haunted look with a touch of insanity. There was no longer hope there, just despair, plain and utter despair.

************   
  


The funeral was today

He sat alone in his crypt, smoking a cigarette, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels was held in the other. He would take a long drag off of his smoke, exhale it and chase it with a long haul from the bottle. He loved the way it warmed his insides, closes thing you could get to blood, which tasted so bad when re-heated.

Spike had somehow hoped that the funeral could have been held at night, so he could be there. But he knew that it wouldn't be, she'd spent so much of her life in the night, she deserved a funeral in the safety of daylight. Plus it saved him from the risk of running into Angel at the funeral, mumbling and bumbling and begging Buffy for his forgiveness.

"Please Buffy," Spike spoke, his voice full of mocking "Please forgive me, I still love you blah blah blah."

He tipped the bottle to his lips and drained it, feeling the burn of the whiskey as it slid down his throat. He took the bottle away from his lips and looked at it, before turning and throwing it across the crypt. It hit the opposite wall with a loud smash, sending glass shards everywhere.

He sat there, and waited. Waited for the night to come. Waiting for his chance to say his final thoughts to the Slayer.

************ 

The night was clear and muggy. The stars and the moon in the sky, casting a perfect glow through the whole cemetary. He walked through alone, his black duster trailing behind him. His strides were long, purspeful, powerful. He moved through the gravesites with his usual swagger that he carried himself with. The Big Bad, William the Bloody, Spike.

As he rounded the bend towards her final resting place, he tightened his grip on the black roses he had in his hand. He came to the top of the bend and stopped. In front of him stood 6 vamps, 4 men, two female.

They stood around Buffy's grave, looking with great interest. Apparently rumour had spread through the underworld about the Slayer's death and these boys came to check it out.

"Here she lies," the largest one said. "Here lies the Slayer. The rumours were indeed true. Finally, she has been taken out of this world so that we have nothing to fear!"

"Hopefully her death was slow and painful," one of the females chipped in.

This drew laughter from the rest.

"This slut's death," the large one continued, "has given us free reign of the Hellmouth, free to do as we please without worrying where the Slayer is, or who will be the next one to die at her hands. With the death of the Slayer, we are finally free!!"

Spike dropped the flowers and began to applaud. The group of vamps turned and stared at the blond vampire.

"Beautiful speach mate," he said. "You must have been one hell of speech writer in your former life."

The group of vamps just looked at him. One raised his head up and sniffed the air.

"But you got it all wrong," Spike continued. "You forgot the part where one Slayer dies, another rises. You young scamps, every one of you probably under a century old and never looked in a history book in your lives."

"Who the hell are you?" the big vamp asked, stepping in front of the rest and looked Spike up and down.

Spike held one finger up.

"Don't talk until I'm finished, it's bloody ignorant," he said.

"He's a vampire," the one who had smelled the air growled.

"Good call," Spike said, nodding at the vampire who spoke.

"As I was saying, a Slayer dies, another is called. How long do you think before another one gets here, a week, a month, a year? How much havoc can you cause before another shows up to drill a stake into your heart?"

Spike scanned the small crowd.

"I think you'd better tell us who you are," the big vampire asked again, moving closer to Spike.

Spike smiled that familiar half smile and his hand shot out, grabbing the vamp by the throat and lifting it off the ground. With his other hand, he pulled a stake from his duster and stabbed the vamp, who made a gurgling sound before exploding into dust.

The others looked surprised at Spike, who look at them, in full game face.

"The answer kids, is none, because none of you will live to see the sunlight," he growled.

The other five vamps roared almost in sync and they moved in on Spike. The first that came within striking distance was met with a solid sweeping kick to the head and found a stake in his heart a second later. She exploded as the second and third approached.

Spike ducked the punch thrown by a heavyset vampire with the grace of a ballet dancer. He launched his foot out and tripped him, sending the vamp to the ground. He turned and blocked two punches thrown by the other female and threw one of his own, catching her in the jaw and knocking her backward. He took the stake and staked her. The heavyset vamp was back on his feet and a small skinny vamp stood behind him.

"Sires have no taste anymore," Spike sighed. "You two are the worst vampires I've ever seen in my lifetime. Now just anyone can be a vampire. Giving us a bad name you are."

"Shut up," the one from the back growled.

"Look at you mate," Spike said. "Christ, your scared of your own shadow. You'd be lucky if you could fight off Xander, much less me."

The fat vampire roared and swung at Spike, hitting him in the side of the head. He rolled with the punch and as the left came at him, he grabbed the fat vamps arm and with a sharp twist, snapped his arm. The fat vamp scream filled the empty graveyard until it was cut short by Spike staking him. Spike turned slowly to face the skinny vampire, who was literally shaking.

"Come on bloke," Spike taunted. "Let's see what you've got. Let's dance."

"Why are you doing this?" the skinny vamp asked. "Your one of us."

Spike started laughing, a deep dark chuckle that scared the skinny vamp even more.

"Like you," Spike nearly spat. "I'm nothing like you. Your weak, frightened, not even a real threat. Someone turned you for one damn reason or another, but you don't have any balls.

Spike sneered at the vamp as he moved closer.

"Don't you dare compare yourself to me," he continued. "I'm Spike, William The Bloody, I've cut bloody swaths through the better part of the world, I've killed 2 Slayers," he looked over in the direction of Buffy's grave. "and aided in the death of another."

  
  


"But you kill vampires," the skinny vampire said, "Why?"

Spike smiled slightly, showing the other vampire his teeth. His face morphed back to his human face, and he reached into his duster. The skinny vamp backed up and raised his hands in a sort of fighting posture. Spike pulled out his gold cigarette case and popped it open. He pulled one out and place it between his lips, and offered the case out to the other vamp. The skinny vampire locked eyes with Spike and shook his head quickly.

"Suit yourself," Spike said, lighting his cigarette.

The blond vampire began to pace around the scared vampire, like a shark circling a helpless victim. Spike walked a 360 around his prey and stopped. He cocked his head slightly and took a drag from his smoke before slamming a right cross into the vampire's jaw, sending him tumbling to the grass. The vampire looked up in fear of Spike.

"There's a chip in my head," Spike spoke, staring at the vamp with a smug look. "Stops me from doing evil things. If you were alive, the chip in my head would have given me a shock. Hurts like a bitch, I can tell you that much."

Spike's arm shot out quickly and grabbed the front of the vampire's shirt and hauled him up to his feet. He pulled the vampire in close so they were almost nose to nose.

"Do you know how hard it is to not being able to hurt a soddin housefly?" he growled. "To not be able to go out and have a bloody massacre because I'm in the mood. To not be able to feed. Of all things, to not be able to drink the blood of the peasants, not be able to bath in it."

He shoved the vampire away from his, dumping him back on his ass on the ground.

"Can't feed, can't hurt anybody, so I beat the piss out of demons. Makes me feel better, I'm a fighter it's in my bones. Can't just mope about, got to go out and kick in the pointy teeth of things that don't make my head go boom. That my boy is you and your former mates."

The young vampire got up off the ground, his eyes never leaving Spike. The blond vamp took one last haul from his cigarette before flicking it away.

"Enough chit-chat though, I've got me some important business to attend to. So let's you and me have a go kid, maybe you'll get lucky and end my bloody suffering."

Spike's face morphed again, the demon in control now. The young vampire stood, looking almost like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming eighteen wheeler.

"Come on!" Spike growled, striding over purposely closing the gap between himself and the skinny vamp.

The young vamp was back on his feet, and swung a sloppy punch that Spike blocked. His left fist shot out and clipped the skinny vamp in the nose, staggering him. Spike shoved him backward and followed with a spinning back kick that sent the vampire tumbling over a nearby headstone. Spike began to close the distance to the gravestone when it was suddenly torn from the ground and hurled at him. It caught him in the gut, sending the blond vampire sprawling backward, with the gravestone landing on top of him.

"That's the spirit!!" he shouted, shoving the gravestone off of his lower body.

The skinny vamp was charging at him. Spike shot backward onto his hands and vaulted to his feet. He ducked the first punch that the vampire threw before ramming a knee into his stomach. The young vamp doubled over and dropped to the ground, where Spike kicked him in the face, sending him airborne to land a few feet away. Spike pulled another stake from his duster and walked to where the vampire was struggling to get up.

" Nice little run my boy," Spike jeered. "Had me on the ropes for almost a second there. But, like I said, I've got something else to do other than this...."

He came down with the stake, slamming it into the vampire's heart. The young vamp gasped before exploding into dust.

"Bloody amateurs," Spike mumbled, his face back to normal as he turned towards Buffy's grave.

As he walked towards the grave, he felt emotions well up inside of him that he thought had been long dead. He couldn't remember when the last time he mourned someone's death. He approached, and looked down at the headstone. His eyes scanned over the inscription and he smiled slightly. It stunk of Harris, but he thought it was somewhat fitting to her. A soft breeze blew, the only sound in the graveyard were the rustling of branches.

"Hello Slayer," he said, standing at the foot of the grave.

"Gonna make this short and sweet luv." he began. 

" The whole time you were alive, I didn't know if I wanted to kill you or love you. Suppose there's only a fine line between the two. Either way, you were always on my mind, and now that your gone, one part of me is rejoicing while the other feels dead."

He paused and took out another cigarette and lit it.

"I came here to apologize Buffy," he continued. "I'm sorry that I couldn't stop them from cutting Dawn. If I had, you'd be alive right now. If you want, it's like I helped kill you."

He chuckled darkly to himself.

"Always said all I needed was one good day, but I helped take you out on my worst. Funny how things happen...."

He stopped and bit his bottom lip before continuing.

" I promised you that I'd protect Dawn," he said, barely above a whisper. "I gave you my word, I said that I'd protect her until the end of the world. Thanks to you, there still is one. She's safe with me Slayer, you don't have anything to worry about any more."

He walked over to where he had dropped the black roses earlier and knelt down, laying them beneath her headstone with the rest that were there. He stood and looked at the grave for a moment.

"I love you Buffy," he said, before turning and making his way back through the cemetery.

************ 

He made his way through the empty Sunnydale streets. He had slayed two more vamps on the way to Willow and Tara's to check on Dawn. Seemed like every vamp in town saw it as an all you can eat after the Slayer's death. He approached the building quietly, like a predator stalking prey, something that he did unintentionally, just a force of habit after all the years. As he approached, he saw the main entrance doors swing open and Dawn walk out, a knapsack slung over her shoulder. She looked around quickly before setting off. Spike watched from a distance as she went, and began to follow her. He followed her up the street, sticking to the shadows as so she wouldn't see him, curious as to what she was doing. He would see her stop and look around uncertainly when the wind would blow, and he saw the stake in her hand. He smiled his half smile.

'Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.' he thought to himself.

He followed her to her house, where she stopped at the end of the walkway. She stood there and stared at the house, which only a few months ago was a safe haven to her, a place that was filled with love. Now, now it was haunted by painful memories of times much more innocent. Spike watched her take a deep breath before heading up the walkway and up the porch. She slowly took every step, grimacing with each one. If Spike had a heart, it probably would have broke, watching this girl do what was probably one of the hardest things she'd ever done in her young life, right up there with burying your mother, followed by the death of your older sister a couple of weeks later. He watched her place the key into the lock and opened the door, letting it open slowly before stepping inside and closing it. Spike waited a moment before he walked the same path as Dawn had just walked to the Summers doorway. He opened the door and stepped into the dark house, and took a deep breath and could smell the scent he had come to associate with this house. It was sort of a sweet smell, like cinnamon and wild roses.

He shook he head slowly.

"Your starting to sound like the Poof," he breathed softly to himself.

Spike glanced around the house, searching through the darkness for Dawn. He stopped as he heard the sounds of footsteps coming from upstairs. He looked at the staircase, the same ones Buffy had stood on only a few nights previous, the night he had made his promise to her.

"I'm counting on you....to protect her"

"Till the end of the world, even if that happens to be tonight."

He gazed at the staircase, thinking irrationally that if he stood there long enough, she'd come back down those stairs like she had that night, alive. Spike grabbed the bannister and made his way up the stairs. When he reached the top, he turned left and headed towards Dawn's room. He approached the doorway stealthily.

He stood there silently, watching her empty dresser drawers into a kit bag, her back to him. He smiled sadly to himself.

"Takin a trip?" he asked from the doorway.

Dawn jumped slightly and dropped the bag she had been holding she straitened by remained facing away from him.

"Don't do that," she said, her voice flat.

"Sorry lil bit," Spike drawled, leaning against the doorframe. "Didn't mean to startle you. Couldn't help but notice your packing everything."

"I'm leaving," she said quietly as she bent down to pick up the bag she had dropped.

"Oh really," Spike commented nonchalantly.

"I'm getting as far away from Sunnydale as possible," she said, beginning to stuff more cloths into the bag. "I'm going somewhere where no one will ever see me again."

Spike left the doorway and approached her. He moved around her bed and stood next to her. He looked down at her as she continued to throw random things into her almost overflowing bag.

"Listen Dawn I..."

"Do you know what it's like?" Dawn asked, stopping her activities to stare at the floor. "Every time Willow, or Xander, or Giles looks at me, they'll see Buffy. They'll look at me and think 'Buffy's gone and were stuck with Dawn, she's useless. She not a Slayer, she's just somebody who isn't even real. She's not our friend and she's the reason Buffy's dead.'"

"No one thinks about you like that bit," Spike said.

"Yes they do!" Dawn said angrily. "Buffy died instead of me. If I had died, if I had sacrificed myself, then you would all still have Buffy. There wouldn't be all of this silence, and all of this lack of eye contact."

Spike put his two fingers underneath her chin and lifted her head. He looked into those dead eyes, the same ones that had once held that spark of life that had intrigued him so much before.

  
  


"If you had died," he began, "there would be just as much hurt, just as much pain as there is with Buffy's death. If you had died, Big Sis would probably be doing the same thing you are now. You two are so much alik.."

"NO WERE NOT!!!!" Dawn shrieked making Spike take a step back. "I'm nothing like Buffy. She was so brave, she was the Slayer. I'm an instrument of destruction, and I'm the reason she's dead."

Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, not the first and surely not the last since her sister's death.

"Your wrong Dawn," Spike growled. "I'm pretty sure it was Glory's fault that Buffy is dead, along with a lil help from my fucking up."

"Let me tell you something," he continued, just loud enough so that Dawn could barely hear him. "No one blames you for her death. Running away will only get you killed, and I promised your sister that I would protect you. You have nothing if you run away, you have family here."

Dawn laughed. Not the sweet, childish laugh that he had associated with her, but something more sinister. It was as dry as old leaves.

"News flash Spike," she said, tears still flowing freely. "My family's all dead or doesn't care what happens to me."

"That's not true," Spike muttered. "Red, Monkey Boy, The Watcher, Tara, Anya, they're your family now. They care about you Dawn."

"What about you?" Dawn whispered.

"Me?" he replied. "I'll be around, just think of me as a bodyguard."

"No," Dawn said looking the vampire directly in the eyes. "Do you care about me, or am I just your responsible because of a promised my sister."

Spike squatted down to be face to face with Dawn. He pushed some of her brown hair from her face.

"I care about you with whatever I have left in me," he leaned in to whisper into her ear.

Dawn threw her arms around Spike's shoulders, surprising him slightly. He wrapped his arms around her and held her in the embrace. They stayed that way for a few moments, lost in each other's embrace for what seemed like an eternity. To Spike, it felt right, more right than anything else he could remember doing in his entire non-life.

'Something about Summers women' he thought.


End file.
